Warning: this post contains profanity. Because after the week I’ve had, it’s appropriate. Please don’t read if profanity offends you.
This week, guys … this week has been the week from hell. Small pockets of sanity interspersed with much longer moments of sheer panic, gritty anger, and so much frustration that I’m surprised the top of my head hasn’t blown off from all the steam.
Add in a heaping dollop of sexism and that makes for a lovely experience all around.
I won’t go into all the details, but the highlights included:
- Finding a razor blade on our front steps, courtesy of the anonymous bully who has targeted us for the last year or more.
- The electrical system went haywire – they still don’t know how to fix it or what “it” even is.
- The kids acting out in every possible way, complete with defiant little smirks of “you can’t do anything about it.”
- The Destroyer killed his baby monitor by ripping it apart, and destroyed multiple Christmas ornaments (including my childhood one.)
- The electrician turned off the outlet to the deep freezer. I found it 4 days later. Thawed.
- The dishwasher tech was an utter jerk.
- The dishwasher is still leaking because the tech was an utter jerk and fixed nothing.
- I broke a slab of marble using only my foot. I am a superhero?
I am running on empty, guys. My stress levels are so high that it’s triggering health issues. At this point last night I was fighting back tears, stress cleaning, and struggling to just stay on my feet. Tonight, I have big plans. I’m going to finish up this post, grab a yummy-but-bad-for-me snack, and go snuggle with a comfy blanket to read and rest.
This is why I can’t get anything done
People ask me when I’m going to post the rest of my continent lapbooks or whatever, and I want to dissolve in tears. I can’t get shit done y’all, because I’m too busy running from one fire to the next and putting them out. And while I’m running around like a crazy chicken, my kids are sneaking around behind my back trying to get into trouble.
Which is why the monitor is broken. While I was cleaning 4 trash bags of thawed, disgusting, leaking food out of the freezer, my kids snuck into my room, scoped out the Christmas gifts, and pounced on any forbidden “toys” that they never get to play with. At least one lied to my face and denied it, but was dumb enough to steal stuff from my room so I caught them. Lying – guaranteed to get you into more trouble than the truth ever will.
While I was on the phone with the home warranty company, the kids had a dance party in my oldest’ bedroom and the little guy got stuck on the loft bed. They scattered like cockroaches when I opened the door except for the trapped 4-year-old gazing down at me with panicked eyes from the loft bed.
The priceless Christmas ornament – I still have no idea how he broke it, but it involved a set of ninja throwing stars and nun chucks. Your guess is as good as mine – I swear he wasn’t even by the tree when it happened. He has a good aim, but I didn’t think it was THAT good.
I have absolutely no problem saying this week was shit. Yesterday was absolutely shit. Today was better … but now I’m tired and fighting yet another ear infection and sinus infection because my immune system is … again … shit.
Given that my sanity is involved here, some drastic mommy edicts went down. Legos were banished. After cleaning the carpet of Legos up twice, I refuse to do it again. Electricians and home warranty people were called and offered a piece of my mind. Which did no good – until my husband called too. THEN we heard promises and got results. This display of sexism did nothing to improve my mood, of course.
The tree is down. All traces of Christmas have been expunged from my house. Oddly enough, none of the kids even commented. I’m not sure if they’re too scared to, or if they really didn’t notice. I won’t take their gifts away, but they might not be surprised any more. Depends on which boxes they actually pried open – and again, I don’t know. Because they lied.
Filling the bucket
This weekend? As much rest, breaks, and self-care that I can fit in. Because if I don’t fill that bucket now, it’s going to get worse. And when I hit empty, bad things happen. Hospital kind of bad things, where my health revolts and my body gives out.
Now, I’m off to find a snuggly blanket that’s not covered in dog hair because my darling children dragged it all over the floor. Have a lovely weekend!